I tried to write in a few different directions for today, but nothing felt genuine. I avoid writing when I feel sad – I do – because, as with most emotions, I’d rather process the feeling by thought or through speech. Each comes easier. We’re here to share life through any medium, if we can brave it, right? Sometimes writing gives whatever the thought, the idea, the blip, a deeper significance. At least for me. And it isn’t always so shiny and gorgeous, so gratifying, so awe-inspiring, but if I write it, I am reminded. Reminded that sometimes life is wretched. Sometimes the silent questions of a broader meaning are so loud that they drown out shouts of opportunity to see beauty in the unexpected completely.
My grandma isn’t doing well back in Minnesota. She took a quick turn for the worse when she moved into a nursing home recently, so now she is back at home with family. My aunt Kathy and uncle John who flew from Florida to be with her. She is surrounded by people who have loved her from the day they met her, and even as she sleeps, I hope she can sense that. God, I hope. The thought of her in pain is akin to a blow to the gut. It knocks the wind out.
It is a slight relief to trust that when she’s ready to go, she will, but otherwise, it is tremendously difficult to be so far away knowing I may not have a chance to see her again. Call someone you love and tell him or her how you feel today. This might be a tad inappropriate, but I’d be willing to run naked through the closest park if you can produce a single person who’s ever tired of the words ‘I’ and ‘love’ and ‘you.’
See? Never gonna happen.
I love you already for doing it, and I bet the person on the other line will, too.